


i want to be daylight in your eyes

by PeachGO3



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Episode: s04e01 Lazarus Rising, Falling In Love, Fluff and Humor, Oblivious Castiel (Supernatural), Other, honestly their first encounter is so much funnier when you read Cas as love-drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 11:07:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27470005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachGO3/pseuds/PeachGO3
Summary: “Ever since I pulled you out of Hell, knowing you has changed me.” – Castiel tries communicating with Dean Winchester. It doesn’t go as planned, in more than one way.My tumblr shitpost about this kinda blew upso I used that positive energy! ♡
Relationships: Balthazar & Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 57





	i want to be daylight in your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I am Literally writing this to cope because I’m kind of scared of depression after the last two episodes, so I’m harvesting my excitement to answer this joyous question: Is Castiel the kind of person to act embarrassingly in front of his crush?
> 
> Also the song I listened to on repeat yesterday is in the title, [Daylight In Your Eyes by No Angels!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tkb1JGxswfY) The lyrics are… a lot, considering 15x18. Every song in my Cas playlist hits so much different now… Anyway enjoy ♡

_“Dean Winchester is saved!”_

Castiel’s voice was as bright as a bell as he resurfaced, out of Hell and its fumes, into the sunny world. Breathing was easier now, and Castiel’s wings adjusted quickly to the new environment. He moved fast, but Dean Winchester’s soul was safe in his arms.

It was done. Commanding his heart to calm down, Castiel laid the light back into the body resting in the coffin. It had been a tough mission but successful at last.

He stopped in his tracks – this was the first time he could really see Dean Winchester’s soul. It was dancing like fire. Curiously, Castiel reached out to touch it, to feel that it was soft and gentle in its burning. Like _love_ , but due to Castiel’s lack of knowledge, he could not be entirely sure of that. It shone despite the cracks around the verges.

Funny, Castiel thought. He then noticed the burn his hand had left on it earlier. He knew it would only be a minor inconvenience for someone as strong as Dean Winchester, and yet an unpleasant feeling of guilt washed through him. This had never happened before. He must have been distracted. He should be more careful next time.

He quickly finished his mission and retreated to clandestinely watch over the human he had just revived. Dean made his way out of the coffin admirably, but he seemed distraught at the sight of all the snapped trees – and Castiel wondered if he should have healed them beforehand. He had been too busy watching. So much for doing better.

The core of Dean Winchester’s soul was now so carefully tucked away that Castiel wanted to reach out and wipe away the walls Dean had put up. He was fascinating to look at.

Castiel did not want to leave him alone just yet, both out of fascination and a sense of duty towards God and the command he had given him. Luckily, Dean found the nearby gas station without problems. He had his guard up, called for help. Hissed at the pain of the handprint burned inside of him.

Quietly, Castiel watched.

Dean broke in, drank a bottle of water and then took the things he liked. Castiel figured they were not healthy to eat, but what could he say? ‘Please don’t’? He cringed when Dean pulled up his shirt to inspect the burn on his arm. It _did_ inconvenience him.

Well, he would overcome that. Castiel continued to watch him collect what he needed. There was… a magazine he took, one with lots of naked women inside. Castiel was fascinated to find that Dean softened when he picked it up. Rays of joy shone out of his soul, over the guarding he had put around it. He felt at ease.

Castiel, too, softened. _Hello, Dean_ , he blurted out. It made the station’s television turn on.

Dean turned it off.

Irritated, Castiel swallowed. _Hello, Dean_ , he repeated, louder this time. But the excitement stayed in his voice. _I am Castiel. I pulled you out of perdition, where you have been dragged by the hellhound. I’m glad we can finally speak to each other. No, I am not a ghost. Or a demon. You can stop doing that. Dean. Dean?_

After the windows had crashed and Dean had laid screaming on the floor, Castiel fell quiet.

* * *

The guilt from that day did not disappear. Why? Castiel’s mission had been a success, had it not? And yet, in the privacy of his mind, he felt discontent.

Had Dean understood a single word that he had uttered?

I will endeavor to do better next time, Castiel told himself and the others. It seemed a bitter irony that, shortly after, he was appointed to be the one to inform Dean of _his_ mission. God had work for him. Now Castiel understood why the human had been resurrected.

The glorious purpose suited him, Castiel mused. Loving, caring, just like a true tool of the Lord. Everything Castiel himself wanted to be.

He wanted to do this part of his task perfectly and practiced what he should say to Dean. The disaster from the gas station would not happen again. Balthazar’s unholy comments were punishment enough. _Don’t you think a vessel would be better?_ he asked.

 _Dean Winchester is special_ , Castiel answered, unwavering.

He was interrupted by a psychic calling for him: “I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle!”

Clueless human. She did not know the danger of summoning an angel. Castiel stopped dead in his tracks to make her go away, but she was persistent. How was that possible?

It was then when he noticed Dean. He was the connection to Castiel, and as courageous as ever, soul shining like a star. It made Castiel falter. He tensed up.

“I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle!”

_My name is Castiel. Discontinue summoning me._

“Castiel?” the psychic repeated. “Sorry, I don’t scare easy.”

“Castiel?” Dean asked, his green eyes wide. Castiel froze. Oh, he could already hear Balthazar slandering. There was something powerful about Dean Winchester saying his name. Castiel liked it.

“I conjure and command you, show me your face!”

 _You will burn if you lay eyes on me_ , Castiel warned her. She did not listen. Castiel sighed. If only she could understand – _Dean_ , he said while leaning, _would you please tell her to_ –

That was the one slip that made Castiel slide into the psychic’s field of vision and, rather violently, her eyes burned right out of her skull.

Castiel swallowed as he left. In Heaven, he framed the incident as a warning to blasphemers and unbelievers. In reality, the feeling of shame ate into his grace with such sourness that he preferred to stay alone for the next hours.

 _How does it feel?_ Balthazar mocked.

Castiel stared dead ahead.

* * *

Again, Castiel caught himself wondering if Dean had understood what he had said. After all, he still thought of Castiel as a demon, or something other. Just no angel. He was scared, and the fear made his walls come up again. Castiel would have never admitted it out loud, but it frustrated him. He wanted to see this love’s light, shining in God’s path through his soul.

As it is fitting for a warrior of God! Not because _a single angel_ enjoyed it. That would be risible.

And yet – Castiel found silent contentment in just watching Dean. As he waited for the perfect opportunity to speak to him, he mused that pulling him into Heaven would be far more straight-forward.

Not to have him here to show him Heaven, let alone for personal pleasure. Just for the Divine mission! Of course.

But that was not the task. Stick to the plan, Castiel told himself. Why was he so impatient?

* * *

Dean’s walls had come down when he read a book in the motel’s room. He was so relaxed that he fell asleep. His soul glistened beautifully. _This_ was the perfect moment. Still somewhat excited, Castiel tried again, this time properly.

 _Hello, Dean,_ he began. _It is me, Castiel. I’m the angel who pulled you from Hell. I may have gripped you too tightly, which is the reason for the burn on your arm. It will serve as a Divine mark. Heaven has great plans for you, Dean Winchester, and I have come to –_

Castiel stopped when Dean’s friend rushed into the room to interrupt. He restrained his annoyance and looked closer, only to freeze yet again. Dean was in pain. Castiel could see shards of glass and mirrors in the room, and blood. Why had he not noticed that? Was he that distracted?

 _What’s the matter?_ he asked, mostly to himself.

 _I told you_ , Balthazar reminded him.

Yes. By now Castiel was awfully aware of the fact Dean could not understand him. His voice had just come out as one loud and inhumanly horrible scream. Since the Garden, no angel had screamed at a human for so long.

Self-pity was unproductive, seeing how Castiel still had a task to fulfill. However, he hid away deeply into Heaven before starting another try to recruit him. This time with a proper vessel, not the cosmic vision that could not see Dean Winchester bleeding.

What is wrong with me? Castiel wondered. He felt disappointment. And embarrassment.

Not only was Dean unable to understand the angelic voices, no – Castiel had hurt him so deeply that he was now readying himself for another attack.

An attack, Castiel thought in disbelieve. That’s what it must have felt like for Dean. Castiel had managed to turn a Heavenly warrior against Heaven. Bravo.

Castiel figured that the reason for what was stirring his heart came from within. Defense, yes, because the hard part of the mission – saving Dean Winchester from Hell – had worked out formidably, but also remorse at his own mistakes. He was inept. And prideful. What had he been thinking, just talking to Dean without considering he might not belong to those who could hear the angels speak?

 _Wishful thinking – it happens_ , Balthazar said with disinterest. Castiel and he listened as their siblings sang in the Heavenly choirs. If Dean could hear this, could hear _Castiel_ , he would surely not be as opposed to Heaven as he is now. Maybe he would even look forward to meeting an angel.

Maybe even find a liking in him.

* * *

Going to Earth was harder than Castiel had remembered. He had drilled discipline into himself before descending. Repeated his lines to not fluff them when he used a human vessel for communication.

His head was so filled with thoughts that he crashed into the barn’s roof while trying to land. Oh well, navigating human vessels had never been his strength.

Dean and his friend had been careful with all the sigils, but of course they were useless against the powers of Heaven. Carefully, Castiel walked inside. Slowly, to not startle them, but determined enough to let them know what they were up against.

He did not flinch when bullets hit his vessel, and thankfully his legs did not stop walking either. Straight forward, there was Dean Winchester, in his human form. He was a tall man, strongly built, with a fierce gaze in his green eyes that Castiel had found to be so soft. His scent was musky, his body heat pleasant. He was very beautiful indeed. The angels would perpetuate his physique wonderfully in their memorials.

Castiel involuntarily remembered Balthazar’s less pious phrasing.

Chasing away those thoughts, he tried a smile to greet Dean. But emoting was even harder than navigating, and Dean’s reaction was discouraging enough: “Who are you?” he growled. His voice was very loud and deep. It, too, was part of the walls around his soul of love.

Here we go, Castiel thought, collecting himself. Tell him everything he needs to know. Your name, your angelic nature, your mission.

“I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.”

Well – it wasn’t what he had practiced in Enochian. But it answered Dean’s probing question of who had saved him from Hell.

“Yeah,” was the dry reply. “Thanks for that.” There was nothing grateful about that voice.

Castiel tried another smile, still not breaking eye contact. He did not like the fear in Dean’s face. He imagined it looked prettier when it was sunlit and full of love, as it should.

Dean was terrified but brave despite his fear. He tried attacking Castiel with his trusty knife, and his friend tried to hit him when they realized it had no effect on an angel.

Right, Dean still did not know _who_ Castiel was.

“We need to talk, Dean,” he said, reveling in the knowledge that Dean could hear _this_ voice. “Alone,” he added softly with a glance to Dean’s unconscious friend. There was a pause.

“He is alive,” Castiel assured him awkwardly.

Dean’s soul was shaking with fear. “Who are you?” he grunted.

“Castiel.”

“Yeah, I figured that much. What are you?”

Castiel looked deeper into his soul. Talking was still hard for him, so he observed before he spoke again: Dean was not shaking with fear of God. It was just… fear. And anger.

“I am an angel of the Lord,” Castiel said carefully. He did not like seeing Dean like this. All this time, he had wanted to meet him. Wanted to get to know him better. How he had even wanted to show him Heaven…!

And now this. A disaster, just like the tries that had come before it. If Castiel wanted to save his reputation in the eyes of God, he needed to make Dean believe in angels.

As expected, Dean replied, “Get the hell outta here. There’s no such thing.” He was even more defensive now, and Castiel had a terrible impulse to show him more tangible evidence.

“ _This_ is your problem, Dean. You have no faith,” he thus stated. With a flash of lightning, thundering, glowing, he spread his wings, carefully stretching all the way to the roof. They still hurt from the crash.

Dean’s soul all but shuddered at the sight. “Some angel you are,” he snarled when they had dematerialized. “You burned out that poor woman’s eyes.”

Guilt ate its way directly into Castiel’s heart. And even more embarrassment, like boiling shame rising to his vessel’s cheeks. He felt his human body cringe and tried looking anywhere but Dean’s green eyes. He felt small. This somehow felt worse than any comment from his siblings.

“I warned her not to spy on my true form,” he explained sheepishly. “It can be… overwhelming to humans, and so can my real voice. But you already knew that,” he added apologetically.

Dean frowned. “You mean the gas station and the motel? That was you talking?”

Castiel nodded silently.

Dean shifted. “Buddy, next time, lower the volume,” he said. His voice was softer now, and he had called Castiel ‘buddy’. Castiel’s gaze fell to the ground, as though he had no control over his vessel at all. Lord have mercy, he wanted to sink into the ground. He should explain his fallacy.

“That was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them.” He swallowed, feeling his heart sink. “I was wrong.”

Maybe he just wasn’t destined to have a special connection to this human, no matter how badly he wanted to. Now, Dean was very defensive about Castiel’s vessel, about what was happening, and Castiel had the unpleasant feeling that it was _he_ who was being confronted, not Dean Winchester.

“Look, pal, I’m not buying what you’re selling, so who are you really?”

The friendly name made Castiel almost glance over the question. Dean was intelligent, he had understood, had he not?

Castiel tilted his head, frowning. “I told you.”

“Right,” Dean said, cracks in his soul closing slowly to build the ultimate defense against its vulnerable core. “And why would _an angel_ rescue me from Hell?” he asked in disbelieve.

Castiel stepped closer. “Good things do happen, Dean.”

Dean did not withdraw. But with his next words, his walls were perfectly built, shaking from pressure and hatred. Heat was radiating off of him. “Not in my experience,” he hissed.

“What’s the matter?” Castiel wondered and tilted his head, trying to understand the concentrated intensity inside of him.

It clicked. All that loathing was not directed towards Heaven, or Castiel. It was self-hatred. It was fear of _Dean_ being violent, _Dean_ being loveless and without worth.

“You don’t think you deserve to be saved,” Castiel realized.

When Dean looked at him then, he saw Dean’s eyes instead of his soul. And freckles, dusted across his face, reminiscent of the stars above. Full lips.

Dean let out a shaking sigh, features hardening further. “Why’d you do it?”

Castiel swallowed and watched him clench his jaw. “Because God commanded it,” he replied in as truthful a voice he could muster. He wanted Dean to be comfortable. He wondered if Dean could feel his warmth on his skin, and if it brought him complacence.

This was not at all about making Dean Winchester devout, Castiel thought.

The self-hatred was hard to understand. Maybe, in this short time, Castiel had already learned to love Dean Winchester too much to understand how anyone, including the human himself, could hate him.

‘Love’ in a Heavenly sense, needless to say. For God’s mission.

It must have been a side effect of his human vessel to continue yearning to be with Dean after Castiel had left. Humans liked company and loved differently than angels. Surely that was also part of the reason why he enjoyed being in Dean’s presence so much.

The vulnerability Castiel had seen in him wanted to make him sing, and it continued to make him happy when Dean softened in his company, when he was so comfortable that he called him by the shortened name ‘Cas’ and joked around him. Intimately, the cracks in his soul opened to reveal his love, despite his initial distrust.

It was nice bathing in the warmth of his body, even though the physicality was challenging, and Dean was not particularly fond of too much closeness. He called it ‘personal space’.

Sometimes Castiel had trouble looking away from his face, too, and one time, his heart jumped when Dean flashed him a gleeful smile. It was even nicer when Dean would actively search eye contact and make Castiel look at him.

Why was that? Castiel did not want to ask questions. He simply took delight in the knowledge that Dean would carry the part of his soul that he touched with him forever.

But – this was all different from _love_ , whatever the other angels said. Castiel did not want to _love_ Dean Winchester. That wouldn’t even be possible. He just wanted to show him glory and _be_ the daylight in those green eyes, _to be_ what made them sparkle. Warmer than a human body, warmer than the sun could shine, and stronger than anything Dean had ever felt. However uplifting and glorious it felt, it was different.

…Right?


End file.
